


The Puking Pickle

by emeraldcranberryjuice



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 08:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16488959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldcranberryjuice/pseuds/emeraldcranberryjuice
Summary: Kei's soulmate clock strikes zero at a Halloween party.





	The Puking Pickle

**Author's Note:**

> This is some hella self-indulgent bullshit. Come talk to me at emeraldcranberryjuice.tumblr.com

Half of the story of finding your soulmate was how it happened.  
  
Kei’s best friend Tadashi met Yachi when they were petting the same dog on the side of the street. Hinata and Kageyama met while screaming at each other from opposite sides of the volleyball net. Hell, Kei’s brother Akiteru met Saeko after an overzealous bachelorette party came into his bar and demanded he take off his shirt and do bodyshots. 

“She came up to me, wrapped her arm around my waist, and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll do them for you,’“ Akiteru recalled the next morning, describing in graphic detail the bride-to-be and maid of honor slurping grape jello shots off his soulmate’s stomach. 

But each of their stories had something in common — their stomachs dropped and the small clock on their right wrist counted down to zero. 

In high school, Hinata and Kageyama would give him shit that he still had years to go. “Don’t you hate being lonely, Tsukishima,” Hinata said. As much as he loved his friends and Akiteru— Hinata and Kageyama slowly became his friends, much to his dismay — it was a royal pain in his ass to have the numbers blinking on his wrist, mocking him, and his weekends were spent horrible reality TV while everyone else was out enjoying their dates.  
  
By the time Kei went to college, he almost forgot that he had three months to go. 

Almost.

When the day finally came, it was Halloween and Bokuto — his roommate and bane of his constant migraines — burst into the dorm room half covered in green paint.   
  
“Dude. You’ve got to come to the party that Kuroo is hosting tonight,” Bokuto said.  
  
“No.”

It’s not that Kei was a grumpy old man and hated loud parties. In fact, Bokuto and Akaashi, his absolutely delightful and calm soulmate, may or may not have several hundred photos and videos of Kei snuggling a bottle of UV cake (which is the worst of all flavored vodkas because it tastes like sweet acid slowly corroding your esophagus) and singing Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” at the top of his lungs. Bokuto frequently dragged Kei out to the bars and parties (“You need to have a proper college experience,” he would say pouring Kei a rum and coke that is a full cup of rum and a splash of soda.).   
  
Kei had never met Bokuto’s “best bro” Kuroo, but every weekend, his roommate came back with tales about how Kuroo tried to adopt a raccoon or some other nonsense.

“Come on,” Bokuto whined. “There’s a costume contest and we need one more person to complete the Avengers.”

“Koutarou, I told you not to leave until I finished painting you green.” Akaashi opened the door and set what looked like a vat of green body paint on Kei’s desk. He grabbed his boyfriend, shoved him into a chair, and began smearing green across his bare shoulders. 

“As much as I would love to make your Marvel kinks come true,” Kei started, eyeing Akaashi’s skintight black catsuit, “I’m going to pass on this one.”

To be honest, Kei had other plans in mind. He had an hour before his clock struck zero and he planned to walk around campus until he met his soulmate. He didn’t need a story to tell grandkids like his brother or Tadashi — he was just sick of being the only one with a ticking clock and wanted to see what the fuss was about.

Plus, it was risky to strike zero in a crowded party.

“It’s October. I don’t want to run around half naked and get sick,” Kei said instead.

Akaashi slowly smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.”

Which is how Kei ended up dressed as Captain America, mask and all, walking down the street. He pulled at the sleeve covering his clock.

People milled down the street in various states of undress, half of them covered in body paint and the other half doused in glitter.

“Where are the rest of the Avengers?” Kei asked.

Bokuto pulled his phone out of the pocket of his purple boxers. “They’re going to meet us there.”

Music poured out of the house. He looked at his clock. Five minutes.

“Honestly, guys, I think I’m just going to stay out here. I’m not feeling so good,” Kei said.

Bokuto threw a green arm around his shoulders. “Nonsense. You’ve got to go out on Halloween. It’s like, the law. Plus, I really want to see Kuroo’s face when we beat his team.”

His roommate practically pulled him up the steps. The house was packed, and it felt like a million degrees. Kei could feel sweat dripping down the back of his foam suit.  
  
They wove their way through the throng of bodies playing beer pong or drunkenly doing the “Thriller” dance. His stomach dropped, and something in the back of his head told him that his soulmate was here.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” he yelled.

Maybe he could find somewhere quiet and wait out the three minutes so that his clock didn’t wind down when he was surrounded by a hundred people.

“Just make it back in time for the contest!”

Kei went upstairs. Most of the bedroom doors were locked to keep people from using them to hook up. He went in the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub.

There wasn’t an exact science to finding your soulmate or what happened if you missed them. Sometimes, the clocks would restart and give them a second chance. Sometimes, the clock stayed on zero.

But he was pretty sure that the answer wasn’t locking himself in a bathroom.

Two minutes left.

He opened the door, and barreled into a man dressed up as a pickle. The man hunched over and puked on Kei’s shoes before running into the bathroom.

“That’s … gross?”

He down the stairs, determined to chance the odds of finding his soulmate, and pulled up his sleeve. His clock flashed zero.

Kei frowned. That can’t be right. It didn’t take him two whole fucking minutes to get out of the bathroom. Then it dawned on him.

The pickle.

His soulmate was a puking pickle.

Kei ran back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He flung open the bathroom door. It was empty, reeking like stale Taco Bell and tequila.

When he got back down stairs, he found Akaashi.

“Dude. Have you seen a dude dressed up as a pickle. He may or may not have been puking?”

“A pickle,” Akaashi repeated.

“My fucking clock just hit zero and the only person I saw was this guy dressed up as a pickle.” Kei wracked his brain. He saw the man literally for two seconds. “I think he was tall? Maybe black hair? I didn’t get a good look at his face because, you know, of the —”

“Puke.”

Kei groaned.

***

Kei didn’t find the pickle.

Nor did they win the costume contest.

Kei, however, did get very drunk.

He flung his arm off the side of his bed, feeling for his glasses that fell off his nightstand. It hurt to open his eyes, and the inside of his mouth felt like a dried asshole.  
  
He was pretty sure he had green paint smeared on him after Akaashi told Bokuto what happened. Bokuto hugged him and then proceeded to pour several shots down his throat and tell him that he doesn’t need a man to make him happy.

At least drunk Kei was smart enough to plug his phone into the charger. Who the fuck decided that it was OK to have Halloween on a Tuesday?  
  
The clock read 8:50 a.m.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

He scrambled, yanking on his jeans. He went to grab his Converses, only to remember that they were still covered in the pickle’s puke. He grabbed a towel and tried to scrub the green off the side of his face.

Kei made it to the science building with five minutes to spare. If it was any other class, then Kei would’ve emailed the professor, claiming violent food poisoning, but he usually enjoyed his biology class.

Though, this may be a struggle.  
  
Kei usually liked to make coffee in his French press before class like the coffee snob that he was, but there was a vending machine that served “coffee” in a nook next to the lecture hall. Though it was more hot water than coffee. But honestly, anything was better than his pounding headache.

He dug out his wallet and fed some bills into the machine. It whirred and spit out coffee into the foam cup.  
  
Kei balanced the coffee on top of his notebook, trying to fit the plastic lid on top, when a man dashed into the nook and ran into him, spilling the coffee down the front of his hoodie.  
  
“Are you fucking kidding me,” Kei practically screamed.

“Oh fuck. Fuck,” the man swore. He grabbed a handful of napkins and shoved them against Kei’s sopping hoodie.

“Get the fuck off of me.” Kei grabbed his backpack and picked up his thankfully dry notebook and started to walk, coffeeless, to class.

The man followed him.

“I am so sorry. Honestly. Can I get you another cup or a muffin or something?”

Kei went into the lecture hall and let the door slam behind him.

Instead of paying attention to the lecture for their dissection lab later that week, Kei couldn’t stop thinking about his wet sweatshirt and the fact that all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. His notes were just doodles. Shit. He’ll have to have Oikawa fill him in before the lab.

The man was sitting against the wall outside Kei’s classroom. His head was slumped over, his dark hair sticking out from the edges of his beanie like he had been electrocuted.

His head shot up as the door closed behind Kei.

“What, are you stalking me now?” Kei said.

The man stood up. Close up, Kei saw that his dark eyes were bloodshot and he smelled like he bathed in booze.

Cute.

“I just feel awful. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you. I was supposed to meet with my psych prof this morning, and I was running late. It was an accident, trust me,” he said.

“So, you’re telling me that a coffee shower isn’t your usual hello? I must be special.”

Kei knew he was being an ass, but the past 24 hours had been fucking terrible, okay?

To his surprise, the man chuckled. “It’s not like I saw you and said to myself, ‘Gee, this guy looks like he should get a caffeine boost.’ Pun intended.” Kei rolled his eyes. “Just let me pay for your laundry or something. Better yet, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee that isn’t terrible.”

“I’d rather not.”

“What are you, a tea person? Juice? Energy drink? Mimosa? Bloody Mary? I can’t think of anymore breakfast drinks.”

“Bellini?”

The man hit his arm. “That’s the spirit. Though, I don’t plan on drinking any time soon. I think my liver would come out of my body and kick my ass after the shit I put it through last night.”

He laughed, a warm and deep sound that did strange things to Kei’s stomach.

“I’m Kuroo, by the way.”

“Tsukishima.”

Kuroo mouthed his name. “Wait, you’re Bokuto’s roommate.”

***

Kuroo did buy Kei a cup of coffee, and all of a sudden Kei started seeing Kuroo everywhere — in the cafeteria, at the library, in the science building, and in Kei’s dorm.

For example, right now, Kuroo was sitting on Kei’s bed, reading and eating Kei's spicy red pepper hummus. Bokuto was nowhere in sight.

“Any particular reason why you’re in my room?”

Kuroo shrugged and shoveled another cracker laden with hummus into his mouth. “You have good food.”

Kei dropped his backpack and counted to ten. “You live in a house with three other dudes. You’re telling me that you have no food in your house.”

“Your food is closer to campus.”

Turns out that the coffee debacle wasn’t an isolated incident. Kuroo’s natural state made Kei want to bang his head against the wall repeatedly.

“How did you even get in?”

“The door was unlocked.”

Fucking Bokuto. Kuroo waved him off. “Before you go cursing Bo’s first born child, it was unlocked because I was hanging out with him before he left to go run errands with Akaashi.”

Kei grunted. He reached down and pulled out his biology homework. He refused to let Kuroo distract him from studying.

But it was hard.

Because Kuroo was distracting. For some reason, Kei couldn’t help but look at Kuroo, even now when he was just reading a book. Turns out that Kuroo was studying to become a forensic psychologist, and he was always reading books about serial killers.

He had taken off his shoes before sitting on Kei’s bed, and his long legs were crossed, the tip of his cat sock-clad foot visible beneath the crook of his knee. He was so focused, Kei noticed, and different from the idiot who ran into him.

Then Kuroo dropped glob of hummus on the leather band around his wrist.

Kei laughed as Kuroo lifted his hand to his mouth, eating the hummus that fell. Kei threw a handful of Kleenexes at him. “Stop eating it, you slob.”

Kuroo grinned and wiped at it, but the orange goo got stuck in the carved vine that wove around the bracelet.  
  
“I like your bracelet. Did your girlfriend get it for you?” Kei asked, trying to be casual and not obvious, even though he had wondered about it for the past several weeks.

“Boyfriend,” Kuroo corrected. “But no. I mean. My boyfriend didn’t get it for me because I don’t, you know, have one.”

Kei tried to ignore the swooping feeling in his stomach. “Oh. That’s nice.” But before Kuroo could smirk and make some sarcastic remark, Kei said, “Any particular reason why you wear it?”

“I’ve worn it since I was a kid after they told us about the clocks in school,” Kuroo said, running his thumb under the band. “My best friend – Kenma – his clock never went past zero, and kids used to make fun of him. I never liked the idea of something telling me that this was the man I was destined to be with. I wanted to find him myself.”

“So you’ve never looked at it?”

“Nope,” Kuroo said. “I was tempted. You meet some people who are so perfect for each other, like Bo and Akaashi, and of course you get tempted to look. But, I’ve seen enough people get fucked up over it.”

On one hand, Kei agreed with Kuroo. In most cases, the soulmates got married and lived happily ever after. But just because the other person was “perfect” for you didn’t make them immune from human problems – they different people, they cheated, they were cruel.

Kei considered himself a realist. He knew no relationship was perfect. But part of him – a small sliver that cried at Akiteru’s wedding and at the end of Titanic – wanted to see what it was like.

Even if his person was a pickle.

He slammed his biology book closed. “I can’t focus. Want to watch TV?”

Kuroo smirked. “Tsukki, are you asking me to Netflix and chill?”

Kei shoved him. “Fuck off.”

Two episodes into reruns of Real Housewives of New York City, Kuroo said, “You know, there’s a band playing at the Whiney Goat this Friday if you want to go. I think it’s some indie nonsense.

This time, Kei couldn’t ignore his heart racing.

“Sounds good.”

***

Two days later, Kei was freaking the fuck out.

“How does this look?” He held up a dark blue button up shirt.

“I don’t understand why you’re so nervous. We’re just going to the bar,” Bokuto said.

Akaashi threw a look at his boyfriend. “It’s nice, but I like the plaid shirt more.”

The moment that Bokuto heard that Kei and Kuroo were going out Friday night, he said, “Well that sounds like fun” and decided that he and Akaashi were going too.

Even though Akaashi kept glaring at Bokuto, Kei was secretly grateful that they were coming. Something about this felt very date-like, and Kei would be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to Kuroo.

But maybe date-Kuroo was awful and would insult his interests or walk with his hands under his armpits. Having Bokuto sitting next to him making fart jokes would definitely help defuse any romance.

Kei shrugged on the plaid shirt and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. Even though his clock hadn’t budged from zero, he fastened his watch around his wrist by habit.

“Come on. We’re supposed to be at the Goat soon,” Kei said.

The Whiney Goat was located on the main street of downtown several blocks from campus. It was a hole in the wall bar, usually only occupied by upperclassmen who liked to vape and drink craft beers.

Kei had been there a couple of times with Akaashi and Bokuto, though they usually liked to go to house parties or one of the sports bars closer to the university along with the other underclassmen.

Kuroo was leaning against the wall of the bar outside, hands tucked in the pockets of his leather jacket, when they arrived. He waved.

“Glad you guys could come.” Kuroo pulled Akaashi and Bokuto into a hug, clapping them on their backs.

Oh God. Should Kei hug him too? Wave? Shake his hand?

Kuroo made the decision for him and pulled him in, arms snaking around his waist. He was warm and smelled like cinnamon. Kei felt his face flush as they pulled away.

The inside of the Whiney Goat looked like a hipster’s wet dream. The bar was dark, lit only by multicolored chandeliers that cast a rainbow reflection onto the walls which were covered with chalkboard paint, bearing messages of “Miyuki Kazuya is a bastard” or “Aomine + Kise = 4ever.”  
  
Akaashi and Bokuto went to try to find a table, and Kei followed Kuroo to the bar, which took up a majority of the space. Kuroo leaned against the edge of the wood. “I’m glad you came,” he repeated.

His smile wasn’t his usual smirk that Kei had gotten used to. It was softer and reached his clever eyes.

“Yeah, me too.”

Kuroo ordered for Bokuto and Akaashi before turning to Kei and asking him what he wanted.

“Don’t worry. I can pay for myself.”

“Then you can get the next round. This one is on me.”

Here lies Tsukishima Kei, killed by Kuroo Tetsurou. “I’ll take a vodka cranberry then,” Kei said.

Akaashi and Bokuto were able to snag a booth, and Akaashi – the damn traitor – conveniently arranged it for Kuroo to sit next to Kei.

The band, called Orange Orgasm or Apple Anus or some other monstrosity, was terrible, and Kuroo and Bokuto couldn’t stop making fun of the lead singer’s whiney love songs and half-assed ukulele playing.

Kei wanted to join in, but halfway through the set, Kuroo shrugged off his leather jacket and put his arm over the top of the seat, fingers tickling Kei’s shoulder. His brain and dick short-circuited.

“I’m going to go piss,” he announced and practically pushed Kuroo to get out of the booth.

He locked the bathroom door behind him. He turned the faucet, splashing cold water on his face. Get ahold of yourself. It’s not like he was a blushing virgin, so why the fuck was he popping a woody over a boy putting his arm around him.

There was a knock on the door.

“Someone’s in here.”

“It’s Akaashi.”

Kei unlocked the door and let his friend in.

“Are you okay?”

Kei laughed. “Maybe? I feel like an idiot though for hiding in the bathroom.”

Akaashi sat on the edge of the toilet. “I mean, at least you know now that it’s a date.” He paused. “Do you want us to leave?”

Kei hesitated. “Would that be okay?

He laughed. “We’re the ones who crashed your date in the first place. Just remember. No sex without protection.”

Kei blushed.

When Kei got back to the table, Bokuto and Akaashi were gone.

“All of a sudden, Akaashi claimed to come down with violent food poisoning,” Kuroo said with a slow smile.

“What a tragedy. Happens to the best of us.”

Kuroo laughed. Kei slid into the booth across from him. Kuroo reached for his hand, running his thumb over the band of his watch.

“So you never told me. Have you found him yet? Mr. Tsukishima?”

Kei snaked his fingers through Kuroo’s. His hands were rough and calloused.

“Maybe? I don’t know. My clock ran out after some jackass puked on me at your party.”

Kuroo’s grip tightened. “Wait. Your soulmate puked on you?”

“Hahaha. I know. So funny. I had to wash my Converses like five times to get the smell out.”

“Do you know who he is?”

Kuroo looked surprisingly serious for once. “I mean, no. He was wearing a costume. Which is kind of the point of a Halloween party.”  
  
"What kind of costume?"

“It was a pickle. But I couldn't find him later.”

Kuroo stood up and threw on his jacket. “Can you come with me? There’s something that I need to show you.”

He hurried out the bar, and Kei had to run to keep up with him.

“Kuroo, what the fuck is going on?”

Kuroo didn’t stop and kept walking down the street to his house. “I just need to check something. Please, just trust me about this.”

The night was cold, but Kuroo’s house wasn’t far away from the Whiney Goat. He had been there once since the party, and it was always weird to see it sober and without mermaids and sexy Pikachus passed out on the front yard.

Kuroo fished out his keys and let them in. The house was dark and quiet, and Kuroo led him up the stairs and into his bedroom.

Kei was always struck by how neat his room was. His bed was unmade and laptop still open, but his clothes were piled in a hamper and his books straight on the shelf above his desk.

Kuroo sat on the foot of his bed. “Can you do me a favor? Just, look in the back of my closet on the left.”

“I swear to God if this is one of your pranks and something is going to jump out –”

“It’s not. I promise.”

He opened the screen door. Kuroo’s closet was filled with plaid shirts and sweaters. Kei pushed them to the side.

Tucked in the back corner was something bright green. He grabbed the hanger and pulled it out. The pickle costume, and running down the front was a stain.

“You’re the pickle.”

He turned around. In one of Kuroo’s hands was his leather bracelet. His right wrist looked naked and had a white ring around it where it didn’t see the sun. Kei knelt down and gently flipped his palm over. Kuroo’s clock was stuck at zero.

“I’m the pickle.”

Kuroo tilted Kei’s chin up and slotted their lips together.


End file.
